


To Sleep, Perchance to...Cuddle

by nerdyandiknowit



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Caring John, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cute, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Mindless Fluff, One Shot, Sharing a Bed, Short One Shot, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy John, Sleepy Sherlock, Stubborn Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 02:43:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdyandiknowit/pseuds/nerdyandiknowit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Almost immediately after they got together Sherlock formed this dependency on John-he could not (or would not as John believes) sleep without John being there, in bed, next to him.  Sherlock  has perfected the art of molding himself entirely to John's body. Every now and again John will attempt a Houdini like escape, but he has mostly resigned himself to the fact that Sherlock would use him for a life sized teddy bear. Well resigned isn't really the word, and even though John will never admit it, he always looks forward to this time he gets to spend with Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Sleep, Perchance to...Cuddle

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT 7/3/14:Hi guys, so I am so luck to have the wonderful Cynosure volunteer to beta my stuff! She has been kind enough to go through my old stuff and make it readable! So nothing has changed about this, but my horrid grammar :)

 

8 months. 8 wonderful, crazy, insane months since that fateful night by the pool.  That one night that changed everything in John H. Watson's life forever.  It amazes John that it took being strapped to enough explosives to put a hole in London and have the life of his sociopathic genius flatmate threatened for him to realize that had fallen hopelessly and madly in love with Sherlock Holmes.  

Well, truth be told, it still amazes John that he fell in love with a person who stores random body parts in the fridge (eyes, fingers, tongues; the list goes on and on) and whose only friend besides himself is a skull, which John desperately hopes is only a prop and not some attempt at a gift from Molly.  But even with his flaws and irritating quirks, Sherlock is completely and utterly irresistible to John.  

The way he can tell just how John feels from one look and knows just what to say to make all the stress from John's day melt away is one thing, not to mention that Sherlock is incredibly gorgeous. Seriously, how can one man be so bloody perfect?  The way his silky smooth dark curls that graze his forehead offer the stark contrast to his almost translucent ivory skin is too much for John to handle.  When Sherlock's perfectly heart-shaped lips flicker into a smile, no matter how fast it disappears, it makes John want to viciously attack him and kiss him into oblivion.  

* * *

 

Most people who know Sherlock, or claim to know him, believe that he does not want and/or need sleep.  While that is partially true - there is nothing on planet Earth that can get that man to sleep while he is on a case - Sherlock does sleep - _a lot_.  

Well, a lot at once anyway.  Once a case is closed and John and Sherlock return to their cozy flat at 221B Baker Street and go to sleep, Sherlock is as good as dead.  The man falls into a coma; but really, who can blame him after being awake for 72 hours straight?  Sometimes 14, 16, 18 hours in a row depending on how much legwork the case demanded and how long it lasted.  In theory, all of this sleeping would be fine and dandy for John. He could get caught up on some housework, do a little typing on his blog, or sort out any last details of the case with Lestrade that Sherlock refused to help with (this was mostly paperwork which Sherlock found "utterly boring and mind numbing"), but no. Nothing could be simple with Sherlock.  If Sherlock had to sleep then so did John.  

Almost immediately after they got together, Sherlock formed this dependency on John - he could not (or would not, as John believes) sleep without John being there in bed next to him.  Now, John normally would not mind this, but like everything in Sherlock's life, sharing a bed would not (could not?) be ordinary. Sherlock could not simply sleep next to John; he had to sleep _on top_ of John, _under_ John, tangled in _between_ John.  They were a mess of legs and arms.  Truly, it surprised John that Sherlock was able to fit himself comfortably on him with the massive height difference between the two men, but he always seemed to do it.  

Once Sherlock did get comfortable, which often includes manhandling John and squishing himself in every nook of John, his John, he could find it effectively left John trapped.  Totally trapped. Sherlock’s grip on John was like a vice (really, how could a man so skinny be so strong?) and he would not let go for anything - _anything_.  

The man was unmovable when he was asleep, John knew, because he tried many, many, _many_ times.  John had tried excuses ("Sherlock...Sherlock, let go. I have to take a piss and trust me, you don't want me to that in bed." "Sherlock. Sherlock, really, my shift at the surgery starts now.") and physically trying to extract Sherlock from his body, but let’s face it: Sherlock is just too damn long to get removed all at once, especially since he has perfected the art of molding himself entirely to John's body.

Every now and again, John will attempt a Houdini like escape, but he has mostly resigned himself to the fact that Sherlock would use him for a life-sized teddy bear.  Well, resigned isn't really the word, and even though John will never admit it, he always looks forward to this time he gets to spend with Sherlock.

* * *

 

At 3:09 a.m., the detective and his faithful doctor stumble back into their flat.  

“Sherlock, you git! We could have been home hours ago if you would just help Lestrade instead of behaving like a toddler.”  

John made a b-line for the kitchen to put the kettle on, even though what he really wanted was a few hours of sleep; yes, sleep would be nice.  But with the left over adrenaline pumping through him and knowing that Sherlock would want to rehash every last excruciatingly minute detail of how incompetent the criminal was (“Really, can no one else think, John?”) or how pitifully ignorant Scotland Yard is, tea was the thing John needed.  

“Sherlock.”

“Hm? Oh, yes. Whatever you say, John.”

“Sherlock? Sherlock, are you even listening to me?”

“Mhm. Yes. Yes, of course,” Sherlock mumbled with a wave of his hand

“Alright, what’s going on, Sher-”John turned to see his frustratingly lovely mate slumped against their kitchen table with the beginning haze of sleep already taking hold of him.

“Okay, okay. Come on, ‘Lock, up you go. There. Come on, we can’t have you sleeping on the table.  God knows what chemicals you left there.”

John struggled and fumbled to get Sherlock somewhat upright and balanced against his body.

“Oi! Good thing you’re skinny, Sherlock, or you’d be sleeping in the kitchen.”

“We,” Sherlock corrected. “We would be.”

“Ha,” John snorted out. “Yeah. We.”  

With lots of awkward movements and near falls, John is finally able to get his lengthy detective into the bathroom.  Sherlock was practically already in his coma by this time and left his after-case clean up completely in his doctor’s capable hands.  Realizing that Sherlock would be utterly useless, John happily takes this upon himself.  Truly, it did not bother him; in fact it was a little relieving - at least he could properly asses any damage Sherlock has incurred and make sure his ‘transport’ is properly cleaned up and cared for.

In their bathroom, John carefully props up a sluggish Sherlock and wets a small cloth with warm water to pat down his face and rid him of the remaining blood and gunpowder.  That irritating robber landed one good shot on Sherlock’s razor sharp cheek bones that resulted in a small crimson slit on his otherwise flawless marble skin.  John’s blood boiled as he attended the wound; if he only could have kept up with Sherlock, that little prat would have got what was coming to him. _Calm down, John, he is getting what is coming to him_ \- at least 20 years of it.  Once Sherlock was clean, or as clean as John could get him for the time being, John rinsed out the cloth and decided what he would attack next.  Brushing his teeth was out of the question - that would end in either John being bitten or Sherlock gagged.  Instead John forces a little water into the consulting detective’s mouth, which garnered him a sarcastic, “John, I am perfectly capable of caring for myself, thank you very much.”  

“Well, this is as good as it will get, I suppose.  C’mon ‘Lock, let’s go… into the bedroom.”

“Hmph. John, quit calling me that ridiculous… pet name…it…it takes no more effort to…”

“Okay, whatever you say, ‘Lock.”

Once in Sherlock’s room (actually their room; John hasn’t slept in ‘ _his_ ’ room since the start of this) the doctor strips Sherlock down to his pants and gets him situated onto the bed, snuggly under the duvet.  The contrast of the red duvet and Sherlock’s raven feather hair make John wonder how in the hell he got so lucky.  Sherlock was truly marvelous and John doesn’t think he will ever get tired of looking at his partner.  With Sherlock in the safety of their bed, John divests himself of his rain soaked, muddy clothes and takes a moment to enjoy the peace.  After a crazy, hectic, and not to mention dangerous case, John revels in this moment of tranquility, knowing that no one can harm them and that, for now, Sherlock is safe.  Even Sherlock looks peaceful basking in the blissful darkness that desperately deserved sleep offers.  Like this with all his defenses down, Sherlock has a childlike quality to him - no yelling, or insulting, or cases to puzzle over just complete relaxation.  

John slips into bed, snuggles warmly against Sherlock’s chest, and waits for the inevitable takeover.  Knowing that he will be stuck here for a while, John closes his eyes and listens to the rhythmic beating of Sherlock’s heart.  

A few hours later, John wakes up to find himself effectively pinned down by Sherlock, who has decided to use him as pillow.  And you know what?  John is just fine with that, and he closes his eyes and goes back to sleep.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, so this is my first fanfic. I LOVE Johnlock and read them all the time, so i decided to try my hand at writing :O Let me know what y'all think:) I'm new to writing on AO3 (i read fics on here constantly...), so if you have any tips send them my way! Hopefully this isn't complete crap lol


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